


The End of the World, pt. 2

by hongmunmu



Series: the End of the World [2]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Body Horror, Cannibalism, Frostbite, Gore, M/M, Red Lyrium, Slow Death, The Taint, read at your own discretion buddy, why. why did i write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongmunmu/pseuds/hongmunmu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In hushed whispers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of the World, pt. 2

Crystals in the mouth.

It’s the first thing he thinks, when he opens his eyes, one of which he no longer has and the bright bright red bores into him like Seheron sunlight on frail, old white skin.

And skin that doesn’t feel a thing. Skin that is less a flesh and blood component and more a dull blanket or cloth wrapped with string, hiding meat from view.

The lyrium wraps around his neck like a choking device. Like a collar.

The world blinks around him, and he fades in and out of it, though not in the manner Kirkwallers knew him for. Fenris became painfully aware of his tongue. It simply sat at the bottom of his mouth like a dead fish. A useless piece of muscle he couldn’t particularly control any longer.

Regardless, he picked and scratched at the crystals beginning to form in the moisture of his mouth with a dirty cracked fingernail, and spat them out as best he could. He thought of the Maker as he opened his journal, and tried to write, with a stiff and shaking corpse’s hand.

 

Anders heard a song.

To be precise, he heard three. One came from the camp, an emanating music that came in deep and enticing waves of magical energy. Another came from his mind, an ever present hum reminding him of Justice’s presence.

The last was within him, like drums and rock salt and damp rotting bodies. The Calling. It beckoned to him using a name that he had never heard before yet was sure to be his. He felt it in his bones and in his slowly but surely decaying body. His skin was discoloured and mottled. He had not been wholly human for a long time.

He bit his lips for the taste of blood.

 

They were both dying. Anders wondered why he still bothered.

They had not had a destination for some time. Anders simply led them further and further out into the snow. Fenris followed, like a child. If the concept of exhaustion had ever been known to him, he no longer recognised it.

He wondered if this would be their last campsite.

 

Fenris had become fascinated by speech.

He attempted each letter alphabetically. With the exclusion of D, because he didn’t like that one, and I, because he’d forgotten how it sounded.

What he produced was a series of garbled noises that were hard to distinguish from one another, but _he_ understood. He knew what he was saying.

He said words in Tevene, and then the common tongue, and then Qunlat. And then repeated it.

He was lying down on his side, head in the snow, eye watching his curled fingers in case they did anything unexpected. His journal lay discarded within reach, pages dampening from snow that had blown into them. Fenris couldn’t remember what he had been writing with. Perhaps he hadn’t written anything – perhaps he’d just imagined it. His hands didn’t respond when he consulted them for an answer. The snow was flecked with red around him.

With what he assumed was his tongue, he cut up the inside of his mouth, and swallowed what came. He’d been undeniably parched as of late. His tongue felt sharp. Something bubbled out of his mouth and leaked onto the snow. He felt like he hadn’t used his legs in a long time.

 

Anders pulled Fenris upright with both rotting hands and kissed him. He was bitter and metallic and dirty and there were crystals and rocks inside his mouth. Justice wept for him, and the tears froze on his cheeks. Fenris’s hand, stained a deep red just beneath the skin, slowly lifted from where it had been motionless on the ground. It seemed as though it was frozen in place, unmoving and stiff as though already in rigor mortis. But slowly, so slowly, one rigid finger bent at the knuckle with a slight cracking sound. In the most basic, unarticulated of movements, that cracked and clawlike finger drew across Anders’ cheek, and flicked away the miniscule pearl of ice.

If his voice didn’t feel raw and pulled from the cold he would have laughed at the sad irony of it, for Fenris’s efforts were lost as fresh tears welled up to replace the one the elf had so valiantly removed.

Anders looked at one eye, and Justice looked at what should have been the other, and both gazes were that of hunger and fondness. Anders kissed the crystals spilling from Fenris’s left eyesocket.

And bit at them, broke them off, and swallowed them. Felt them scratch and cut at his oesophagus as the shards went down. He kissed what was left.

Fenris felt like he could see again, though he knew his eyesocket was empty and contaminated and done, and as best he could, he pulled Anders into an embrace.

They were past words. They had been for a long time, whether they had tongues or not. Frost clung to Fenris’ long eyelashes, and Anders’s lips were blistered and red from the cold. They were still beautiful.

Anders reached for Fenris’s hand, and held it between both of his own, and watched in love and sadness as it snapped away bloodlessly. Fenris watched as well, unresponsive, uninterested. He angled his face up and kissed a mottled cheek. Crystals on and in his mouth tore the skin.

Anders bit and tore away the lyrium formations around Fenris’s neck. And then moved away, and cupped the other’s face in his hands, and ate away the minerals growing inside the elf’s mouth.

And then his tongue.

When he pulled away Fenris smiled like he was alive.

Leto smiled, broad and sunny and childish, and waited for Anders to pull out the rock that had grown roots on his ribcage and chest. And waited for him to pull out his heart.

He died in the ghoul’s arms as it ate a heart out of him and they walked to the Fade together hand in hand.

 

And days later, a ghoul housing a spirit continued to gnaw on a corpse in the blistering snow.

 


End file.
